Lies and Truth
by Kittyling
Summary: "Night opens wounds that cannot heal..." Hisoka-torture, angst, and hints at shounen-ai.


Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei and lyrics to "Lies and Truth" are copyright Yohko Matsushita and L'arc~en~ciel respectively.

Author's Note: ::takes a deep breath:: Okay. My very first Yami no Matsuei fic. I've wanted to write one for a while but never got around to it 'til now. [read: Kitty-chan was being lazy. Yep, that's about it. ~.~] Anyway…fairly angsty Hisoka-centric fic. Hope you like it, and comments are most certainly welcome.  ^_^

[*****] Manga, King of Swords arc, spoken by Tsubaki

****

**Lies and Truth****__**

**_It continues on, doesn't change   
Is it truth that heals the pain?   
The moon goes down, through the window   
Your skin's turned blue   
Still trembling a little   
Your lips are hurting me again   
At night it falls down, falls down_**

The depths of night are home to our darkest emotions. Lust, fear, sorrow…even love…they can be blocked out by day or the company of others, but when alone these emotions become consuming. They thrive in shadows. Shadows in our hearts…shadows in our minds…

It's never wise to be alone in the dark.

                Pain.

                He felt it with every slice across his skin—the sharp, stinging blade of the knife, cold metal pressed against warm flesh. As much as he cried out, as much as he screamed…the sounds only reached deaf ears. The room wasn't small, but wasn't large, either. Perhaps a forgotten warehouse or the back room of a closed shop; wherever it was, he knew it was where no one would ever look. No one except _him_.

                 For now, Hisoka was alone; but he knew all too well from previous encounters what would happen next, what would happen as soon as his tormentor stepped into that cold, dark room. No windows but one, no light except for the silvery illumination of the moon upon the rough, stone floor.

                How much longer…before that moon was stained red?

                The chains that bound Hisoka to the wall bit into his flesh, and as much as he struggled, his efforts were to no avail. The young shinigami closed his eyes as if to block the memories from once again entering his mind—from once again becoming real. Without the dreams, though, his thoughts were surprisingly empty; without the emotions of others, a strange hollowness was present. He was rarely completely alone…but when he was, the emptiness nearly consumed him. As much as he loathed his empathy, it gave his mind something to occupy itself with. Something other than his death. Something other than revenge.

The creaking of the door brought Hisoka out of his thoughts. Slowly, he opened deep emerald eyes to find himself gazing at the figure of the man who'd killed him. Dressed entirely in white, with silvery hair and eyes, he'd once been described as an angel; to Hisoka, however, he was anything but. Muraki advanced slowly, his face expressionless, but when he reached his victim, he smiled. 

"Watashi no ningyo…" he murmured, trailing a hand across Hisoka's cheek. "Am I to discipline you again?" His eyes reflected the pale light of the moon, and emotions were impossible to detect from him, much as they were from the empath. But upon contact with Muraki's skin, fear immediately surfaced within the young shinigami. 

_Please…don't…_

The sight of glinting metal caused Hisoka to instinctively press as close to the wall as possible, his body trembling slightly. 

_Not again…please, not again…_

Muraki placed the knife blade just under Hisoka's neck, delicately touching it to the soft, pale skin of his victim. "I hope you don't think anyone will come for you…I've made sure that there's no space for interference…" The knife pressed slightly harder, enough to cause a prick of blood to swell beneath it and trickle down the shinigami's chest.

Perhaps a dream; perhaps just another of the countless nightmares that tormented Hisoka. But whether or not it was a dream, the pain was still real. It was as though he relived that night each time he fell asleep, each time he allowed his mind to wander…the hatred he felt towards Muraki, the sense of loss that he could do nothing about the dreams…that even if they were real, no one would come to save him…

_…That no one would care…_

Again, the curse was carved into his flesh. Once more came the blood and pain, the suffering...

Once more, the blood-red moon.

Hisoka thought back to words once spoken to him…words that now seemed hollow…

[*****]_…You have someone more worthy of you than me...  
Protects you...  
Takes care of you...  
Understands you...  
While knowing…  
Will forgive everything...  
A person who will love you...  
Is right…  
Next to you..._

And yet…that person was not next to him. He was once more alone, and in the dark…the blood from his wounds dripped onto the stone floor, onto the square of light bathed crimson by the moon. Even his tormentor had gone, leaving Hisoka chained until another night; bound to the curse that had taken his life from him, bound to the memories and bitterness that wouldn't disappear, no matter how hard he tried…

He woke up panting and trembling, covers thrown haphazardly over his bed in fitful sleep. The open window showed that it was still night, stars and moon glittering brightly against a backdrop of black velvet.

_A silver moon._

Somehow, this didn't bring consolation anymore. Hisoka knew what would come as soon as he closed his eyes again, and he feared it. He feared the night. He feared being alone.

_Alone_. He always acted as though he preferred it that way, but really, he was scared. Only one saw through that in the least, only one always stayed with him…

_But he's not here._

_He can't ever be here…_

The emotions confused him; he didn't understand what he felt from the other man, and he didn't understand what he felt _himself_. Why was it so empty when he was alone? Why did it hurt so much? Curled up in the warmth of the blankets, Hisoka tried to forget. He tried not to notice how cold it was without him, how silent everything seemed. He tried to block it from his mind, as he had done with all emotions before; he tried to push it away.

A single, cold tear fell from empty emerald eyes; a tear that could never be seen.

That was why…he could never be loved.

In the silence of night, Hisoka finally gave in to the tears he'd held back for so long. One word was distinguishable between the sobs, a word he would only speak in the solitude of his thoughts…his endless darkness…

"Tsuzuki…"

**_I can't search for the truth   
Even though you're more important than anyone   
The feelings that I believe are swaying   
Even embracing to the point of breaking   
You won't return_**


End file.
